


Tessallation

by noona96n (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, F/M, Long Distance Relationship, M/M, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Slow Build, Suicidal Thoughts, Texting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-08 16:12:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/noona96n
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tessellation: a continuous, repeated pattern made up the same shapes that must fit together exactly, with no spaces or overlap. And that’s what they are. John Watson and Sherlock Holmes. Pieces that fit perfectly together. <br/>Or<br/>In which John and Harry have to move away and Sherlock has to coped up with family and school life on his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tessallation

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f8N5UVQtMnk and the comment below it by Joy Elizabeth: I'm a horrible person for commenting this but now I feel like this is Harriet reading John’s suicide note...  
> That video is absolutely fantastic. You have to watch it! Please, for the sake of John and Sherlock.

 

**Chapter 1:**

**If you ask Sherlock about his relationship with John,** he’d most likely ask for the reasons why you need to know. What follows after depends on your answer. If he deemed it dull or boring, which is his view on everyone else besides John, he’ll deduce everything there is to know and this will most likely cause you immense embarrassment in public which result into a slap, a punch or both. However, if your reply is interesting enough; then he’ll answer your question and says “Oh, we’ve been friends since forever.” That is, in John defense and actuality, is not true at all. They’ve only been friends for four years and spend the last three and a half being each other’s best buds. But of course, you know how Sherlock can be with his exaggeration so try not to believe it when it comes to relationship that he has with others in general- not just John. Now, if you know about the length of Sherlock’s and John’s friendship; I would recommend you shut the fuck up and try not to blabber about it, especially in Sherlock’s presence, because a) correct Sherlock and be prepare for the biggest humiliation in your life and b) he will sulk and pout and throw a tantrum so big John will have a headache calming his best mate down. Sherlock hates it when people point out how short it is he’s been friends with John, it makes him feels like they’re measuring the strength of their friendship due to the years they’ve been together- which is what they do all the time.

Now, if you want to piss John of then I advise you talk shit about Sherlock. There’s nothing that angers John more than people badmouthing Sherlock just because he’s smart and intelligent and eccentric and sociopathic and wonderful and brilliant and amazing and fantastic and _being Sherlock_. People would never be capable of doing what his brain could. They would never understand Sherlock and his brilliant mind. Yet they talk and talk and talk, say things that are hurtful and terrible, creating endless streams of rumors just to keep the rumor mill turning and keep themselves amused. And he hates it. He hates that people produces ridiculous nonsense about Sherlock. He despises it so much he’ll punch you in the face, in fact he did that countless of times already. And Sherlock would give him funny looks afterward before questioning his action to which John replies with a raise brow, expecting Sherlock to know the answer like it’s the most obvious thing ever, and says “Because you’re my best friend”. Sherlock never really understand that replies, no matter how many times he hears it he could never get the meaning just right. He deduced- not guess, Sherlock never guess he only deduce- various definitions of that phrase but they never feel right enough for him so he always discard them. The sentence remains one of his biggest mysteries still while the mystery of all mystery is John Hamish Watson himself.

Even now, when John is nowhere near him and far far away from his side, he still couldn’t decipher the code.

 

            Because you’re my best friend Sherlock.- JW

            11/March/2013 11:38 P.M.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**_6 months ago_ **

**“After finding the limit of the funct-”**

Sherlock groans halfway through the lecture, out of boredom, and John turns his attention from the board and their math teacher to Sherlock who is currently lying his head on the table, his arms dangling by his sides and his face flat on the surface of the desk- an expression of unrestraint boredom plaster his feature. John rolls his eyes at his best friend’s behavior before turning back to look at the board. Sherlock glares at John, willing the teen to direct his attention on him again- he likes it when John showers him with attention. Sherlock groans again, hoping it will make John looks at him but receives a head shake from John instead. The black hair teen groans again, and this time the people near him except John turn to look at him and give him weird looks, before sitting up. He tears a page from his notebook noisily and scribbles something onto the tattered page before he throws it at John. The math teacher clears his throat as a sign of warning but Sherlock ignore the man completely- he’s dull math teacher anyway no need to pay him any attention. John sighs and picks up the ball of paper from the ground and uncurls it.

 

John, I’m bored.- SH

 

John lets out a huff of laughter before folding it into a neat square and tucks it into his pencil case. He listens intently to the explanation given by the teacher when another paper ball hits his head. The teen says nothing and unfold the paper.

           

John, why are you ignoring me? –SH

 

Again, John folds it and tucks it into his pencil case. Annoyed, Sherlock decides to thrown multiple paper balls simultaneously before he sets to accomplish that. Three minutes later, and he started throwing the balls at John. The professor, who had quite enough childishness from Sherlock, decided to pull out the detention slips and hands it to them.

“Detention, both of you, this evening.” Professor Sheringford mumbles and taps on detention paper.

Sherlock looks at the piece of paper on his table and then the boring teacher funnily and says “Why does John has detention too?”

The man eyebrow’s raise at the question and he looks between John and Sherlock. The students gasp and Sherlock has somehow managed to glare at each and every one of them. The petit blonde sighs and says “Ignore him Mr. Sheringford.”

“John!” Sherlock gasps dramatically and stands up so fast his chair falls back. John tilts his head to the side and looks at his best friend. The two have a whole conversation through staring for about 40 seconds before Sherlock huffs in defeat and set up his chair and flops down on in gracelessly and crosses his arms in a sulking manner. John tries his absolute hardest not to giggle.

And that secure peace and quiet throughout the lecture.

**Lunch break** is one of the most boring parts of high school life ever because a) there are lots of people everywhere in the canteen and he hates every humans in general except John, b) lunch break is for eating and Sherlock hates eating since it slow down his brain waves and c) John concentrates on his food and pay less attention to Sherlock. And the reason why Sherlock despises the break so much is because of the last reasoning. He dislikes everything that divert John’s attention from him which is why he settles on screwing with John’s lunch, his archenemy in the waging war in which the one who obtain victory will be awarded wit John’s victory. John, of course, is very aware of this and this is why he decides to eat his sandwich _and_ converse with Sherlock.

“Sherlock, you should eat something.” John says after he swallows the bread, Sherlock’s eyes watch John’s Adam apple bobs intently. The black hair teen sighs in exasperation and says “Not hungry.”

John sighs at the reply and says “Then at least drink something.” And force his apple juice into Sherlock’s hand. The young man frowns at John and the blonde looks at him pointedly in return. A few minutes pass as Sherlock stares at John and John keeps on chewing his food before Sherlock finally finally takes a sip of the liquid.

“The juice’s taste is vial John! How could you drink such a concoction?” Sherlock asks dramatically and John just has to roll his eyes at the remark.

“It’s sweet Sherlock. I drink it because I like it.” John replies and grunts afterward when Sherlock put down the can of juice and to replies the text. After a few minutes of abusing his mobile phone, Sherlock drops his head and the phone onto the round table. John raises a brow and stares questioningly at Sherlock then the black iPhone.

“It’s Mycroft, sticking his big fat nose into my business again.” Sherlock replies and reaches for the apple juice that was forgotten minutes ago. The man starts drinking from the straw without lifting his head up. Chewing on the straw, Sherlock says “Whether I eat lunch or not is absolutely none of his business.”

John frowns at Sherlock childishness as he wipes his mouth clean then says “He’s worried about you Sherlock. Don’t be mean toward him, Mycroft meant well.”

“I don’t like him meddling in my life. It’s bothersome and annoying.” Sherlock mumbles.

“Well, you don’t seem to mind when I interfere with your life.” John states and bites into his apple. Sherlock lifts his head of the table and stares at John like he’s some alien. John fidgets in his seat and returns the look awkwardly and asks “What?”

“You’re different John.” Sherlock says quietly and rest both of his arms on the table, using his elbow to support his arm as he rest his face in his hands. John chuckles at the statement and looks at Sherlock with the biggest and most lovable grin that Sherlock has ever seen in his life.

“I know.” John replies the smile still intact. And Sherlock feels his heart skips a beat.

**After their** chemistry and history classes, John and Sherlock find themselves in front of the detention room. Sherlock had spent most of the afternoon persuading John into skipping detention but was unsuccessful so he ends up being drag here by the collar into the room. The two enter the room to see a smirking Mr. Sheringford. Sherlock groans loudly as soon as he the smugness on the man’s face.

Oh, he’s going to enjoy seeing Sherlock suffer from boredom.

Ten minutes into the detention time and Sherlock’s already fidgeting in his seat, his fingers tapping on the desk impatiently. His phone was confiscated eight minutes ago and John is at the front of the class, both of his means of entertainment are clearly out of reach. The teen grumbles something along the line of stupid teacher and stupid detention before he starts to deduce the math professor to pass his time.

About 40 seconds into his deduction, the door to the room slams open to reveal the assistant of the principle. Her forms are shaking so that means she had run all the way from the office to here. Fall down a flight of stair, the corner of her right glass is cracked and her hair is disheveled. Sprained her right ankle, she winces when she accidentally shifting her weight to her right.

“Excuse me, is John Watson here?” the woman asks, her voice trembling- not from the running so that leaves bad news. This means she’s here with bad news for John. John stands up and looks at the secretary.

“Yes ma’am, I’m here.” John says and the female beckons him out of the room with her. John follows her out and Sherlock restrains himself from going to the door to eavesdrop- that would be an invasion of privacy and he’d most likely get another hour of detention.

A few minutes later, John walks back in; the color drain from his being and he’s trembling uncontrollably. He turns to look at Sherlock and gives him a swift nod before he gathers his bag and walks up to their teacher. The two share a hushed conversation and John leaves the room. Sherlock rises to go after John but Mr. Sheringford barks out his name in a threatening manner. The teen glares at the old man.

“What?” Sherlock growls out and glares at him.

“Sit back down young man.” Mr. Sheringford says and gestures him to sit down. Sherlock ignores the guy and walks out the door without glancing at him.

“Mr. Holmes!” Mr. Sheringford shouts and Sherlock turns to glare at him again.

“I will not stay in this boring room when John is obviously in need of a friend.” Sherlock grounds out and slams the door shut with all his might to display his annoyance and anger at being stopped. The teen runs as fast as he can along the hallway to find John. He spots the petit blonde on his way out the gate and he double his speed.

Sherlock grabs hold of John’s shoulder when he finally caught up to him. He turns John around and sees that there are streams of tears running down his cheeks. Sherlock instantly feels his gut coil with anger and desire to sabotage whatever it was that cause John to cry. John never cries. He’s strong and powerful and amazing. He doesn’t cry. Crying is not John’s division.

“John?” Sherlock asks softly then continues “What’s wrong?”

John looks at him with his tears glazed eyes and Sherlock has the urge to hug him, squeeze the living light out of him. After a few minutes of staring, John finally breaks down and sobs loudly and leans into Sherlock. Sherlock returns the hug and, not knowing what to do, strokes his friend’s short golden hair.

“Sherlock. My mom and my dad.” John mumbles into his friend’s shoulder after a few minutes and Sherlock listens closely to what John has to say.

“They’re dead.” John finishes and continues crying.

Shit, this is bad. Sherlock need to get John to where ever his parents are at. The teen pulls out and texts, he decides to ask him brother for help, for John; just for John.

**The room** is filled with the sound of sobbing when they enter. Harry was on her knees, crying and leaning on Clara who tries to sob as quiet as she could. The shards of John’s broken heart are crushed into million tiny pieces when he sees two figures covered up by white sheets and leans further into Sherlock. The tears that he thought to have dried up have gather in his eyes again and they started to pour out of the sockets once more. John takes a deep breath, wipes his eyes and cheeks dry and marches toward Harry and Clara. Sherlock follows close behind; knowing that his friend will break down once again because there’s no way John can fool him with a confident strike and aggressive wiping of the face.

Harry seems to notice them as soon as they step near her and her girlfriend. The girl looks up to see John and his ever presented best buddy, tears staining her cheeks and her eyes swell from too much sobbing. Harry tries her hardest to stop crying in front of her baby brother and wipe her face with her sleeves. She stands up and grabs John’s arm, there are still streams of tears running down her face. Clara stands beside her and rubs her back consolingly.

“I’m *hic* so sorry. *Hic* If it wer*hic*en’t my birthday*hic* they would still be h*hic*ere.” Harry mumbles and started to cry again. John looks horrified at what Harry says and it double when Harry utters apologizing words between sobs as she hugs him like she’s hanging on her dear life.

“What? Harry.” John says and suppresses his tears and returns Harry’s hug. Harry cries some more and says “sorry” and “Forgive me, please” again and again. John looks horrified.

Clara grabs John’s shoulder and says “Forgive her, she needs it.”

“Harry, Harry. Listen to me.” John says and held his big sister at arm length. “I forgive you okay? I forgive you. So please, please.” the blond continues and the woman’s cries reduce to sobbing and John feels relieve and grateful to Clara. The blonde leans up to kiss Harry forehead affectionately and Sherlock and Clara take it as a cue to leave the room and allow the siblings some moment of privacy.

Once outside, Sherlock sits Clara down on the nearest seat and proceeds to stare at the grief-stricken girl without batting his eyelids. Clara sniffs and gathers her thoughts, knowing exactly what Sherlock wants to know.

She swallows once, twice, and says “They were hit by a truck on their way from buying Harriet her birthday cake.” The brunet pauses for a few seconds then continues “It’s a hit and run accident.”

Sherlock stays silent and crosses his arms as he leans his head against the hospital wall. He counts his breathings as he waits.

A few minutes pass and his phone buzz in his blazer’s pocket. The teen reaches for the device and stares at the screen funnily.

 

            How is John?-MH

            11/October/2012 4:48 P.M.

 

Sherlock frowns at the text then types in the reply.

 

            I do not wish to discuss this over messages.-SH

            11/October/2012 4:48 P.M.

 

            Then we will discuss this at home I presume.-MH

            11/October/2012 4:49 P.M.

 

            When should I tell the chauffer to pick you up?-MH

            11/October/2012 4:49 P.M.

 

            I will text you about it later. I have to stay with John.-SH

            11/October/2012 4:50 P.M.

 

The fact that Mycroft is coming home was completely ignored by Sherlock.

 

            As you wish.-MH

            11/October/2012 4:50 P.M.

 

Twenty minutes later, Harry and John emerge from the hospital room with a doctor and a nurse; both of the brother and sister eyes swollen and red from too much crying. Clara immediately goes next to her girlfriend and grabs the woman’s hand, rubbing circles on the back of it soothingly, and Sherlock looks at John awkwardly not knowing what to do. Sherlock is vaguely aware of the Watsons and the doctor and nurse talking about keeping the body in the morgue until tomorrow when the family will come and pick the bodies and have a proper funeral.

Sherlock remain silent as he listens to John and his sister conversing with the hospital staffs. He continues to look at his blond friend until John turns to look at him. John’s lips quirk up is a restrained smile and Sherlock feels relief spreading through his chest.

“I’ll drop you home.” Sherlock mumbles as he text his brother to send the car to pick them up.

“No, no. You should go, it’s okay.” John replies, his voice dry and hoarse. Sherlock frowns at the replies at stares at John like he just grew another head.

“You are coming home with me.” Sherlock says and continues before John can protest “All of you.”

John smiles lightly at that as Sherlock turn to walk down the hallway dramatically.

“You have a great friend John.” Sherlock hears Harriet says softly, her voice equally dry and hoarse.

“I know.” John replies and Sherlock allows himself a smile.

The four of them waited for about two minutes until Sherlock’s Bentley arrives. John suspects that Mycroft had ordered for it to park somewhere near so it would be convenient to pick Sherlock up afterward- because really it’s a gift from Mycroft to Sherlock so the elder still has a say in managing the chauffeur, plus Sherlock thinks it troublesome and let his brother take cares of it. The four steps into the spacious car to find Mycroft sitting in the cabin, waiting for them patiently. Sherlock frowns disapprovingly at his big brother, to which the man smile at sips his already cold tea.

“John, it’s good to see you. Ms. Harriet and Ms. Clara as well.” Mycroft greets and hands them their drinks and snacks. John mumbles a “thanks” and sips his drink, which happens to be apple juice, before reaching for the freshly baked brunch in the paper bag. Harriet says nothing and makes no move to accept the food so Mycroft decides to put them on her laps. The blonde turns to glare at Mycroft and the man replies with a smile that lack warmth and affection. Clara squeezes her hand lightly and feed her a sip of hot chocolate- the brunet has to wonder what a coincident it is for Mycroft to buy her favorite drink for her.

“What are you doing here Mycroft?” Sherlock asks, his voice laces with venom and thorns.

“To bring John and his associates the snacks of course.” Mycroft replies, hiding his smile behind his cup of tea. Sherlock huffs at the reply and John clears his throat in a friendly manner.

“You came all the way from Oxford to Chelsea to give John snack.” Sherlock deadpans and Clara chokes on her drink. The brunet looks at Mycroft as if he’s a unique specimen from outer space. Normal people don’t drive all the way from Oxford to Chelsea just to provide other people with snacks, that’s at least one and a half hour ride in current traffic! Well, what does she expect; these boys are the Holmeses after all.

Harry rolls her eyes and John gives no reaction to this peculiar behavior of Mycroft, he is immune with the family’s trait to overdo things. The older Holmes turns to Sherlock with a smug look and a small smirk tugs at the corner of his thin lips. Sherlock crosses his arms and turns to look outside his window.

“So John, tell me about the funeral service you’re going to arrange.” Mycroft says softly and Harry sniffs. John mentally curses the older Holmes for his insensitivity. Sherlock rolls his eyes as if he’s been expecting such a question from the beginning- which he did.

“Timing?” Clara asks and snakes her arm to hugs Harry’s waist. Mycroft looks at the brunet questioningly, wondering what he did wrong. The two of them stare at each other with defiance before John clears his throat to cut through the awkward silence.

“We’re not sure about that but we had a talk with our grandma. She said she’ll come over and arrange it.” John replies softly. Mycroft looks at John with calculating gaze.

“Hmm, well, if you need any assistance John; know that we will not hesitate to give any.” Mycroft replies with a gentle smile.

For the first time, John is speechless in front of the older Holmes brother. The blond clears his throat again as he buys his time to find the right words to show his gratitude. Finally, he says “Thank you Mycroft” with a small smile.

Mycroft replies it with a smile and a curt nod.

 

 

 

 

 

 **Mr. and Mrs. Watson funeral is held at Nottingham two days after their death** , their bodies buried together in the Watson’s family cemetery. There was mourning. Some of it fakes, some of it real. Like the family in the front row when the coffins were lower into the ground, that family’s sobbing and crying were all just a show. An act to display their made-up grief when, in actuality, they are gleeful those two are dead. Their eyes, Sherlock noted, were clear although they should be filled with sadness from the death of their family members. Sherlock highly doubt they are raised to be void of any sentiments like the Holmes considering the fact that their mother, Mrs. Watson who is John’s and Harry’s grandma, is an emotional woman who weeps throughout the entire ceremony. So why are they happy? Hmm, well, because they’re poor obviously and John’s and Harry’s parents were rich. The three children in that family have no proper clothes for a funeral, they were normal t-shirts and jeans and trousers, and the mother is wearing a black dress that is three years out of date; stating the poor financial income. They were happy because, as John stated; the head of the family is John’s only living relative besides they’re grandma- who is from his mother side. And as an uncle, the man and his family have full custody over the siblings and, of course they weren’t happy of taking care of John and Harry, they were happy because of the million pounds benefit they will receive from Mr. and Mrs. Watson back account for taking the brother and sister under their wings.  They thought that every penny in John’s and Harry’s mom and dad’s bank account will be theirs since it’s only logical when they take care of the two. They were unaware, of course, of the fact that John and Harry both have their own trust fund that will be inaccessible until they are 25 and that their parents only have a couple of hundreds of pounds in their possession since most of their incomes are deposit into their children’s accounts. But, they are of course disappointed about this news that John’s granny just broke to them a few seconds ago and John and Harry will be in their granny custody. And Sherlock deduced everything from the smugness in John’s granny already red eyes and the sour looks on the family’s face.

Sherlock leans into a tree quite faraway from all of the people and crosses his arms. He’s fed up so he just up from the chair and walks before finding the right spot to leans in and observe. A few minutes late, John’s by his side looking him awkwardly. Sherlock stares at John, his brows furrowing together.

“What?” Sherlock asks and John sighs.

“Well, now that my parents dead; me and Harry are going to live with our granny.” John says. Sherlock gives no reaction to this and just look at John as if it’s the most obvious thing; because really it is, he just spends his time deducing that.

“So?” Sherlock asks and John makes a funny face.

“So, I’m moving here.” John replies, trying to put on his straightest face. Sherlock looks a John for one full minute, allowing the information to finally sink into his brain. He frowns at John and glares at the blond teen.

“What do you _mean_ you’re moving here?” Sherlock asks and John sighs.

“Sherlock, my granny’s old we can’t make her move from Nottingham to Sloan Street.” John replies.

“Then move in with us.” Sherlock states, like it’s the most obvious fact. John sighs at that replies and Sherlock looks at him pointedly.

“I can’t. We can’t?”

“And why not?”

“Because your mom and dad won’t allow it.”

“I’ll make them adopt you.”

“Sherlock, you can’t. They don’t like us.”

“They don’t like me.”

“It’s different Sherlock. You just can’t do that, it’s not okay.”

“You not being with me is not okay! Who am I going to talk to now?”

“We can still be friends and keep in touch. We have our own phones you know.”

“It’s not the same.”

“It will be. Trust me okay?” John says and grabs Sherlock’s shoulders as he smiles. Sherlock grumbles out an agreement and John feels a sliver of relief.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how John Hamish Watson and his sister Harriet Watson moved from Sloan Street to Nottingham and one Sherlock Holmes’s life spiral down the drain.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I feel that this isn't good enough. I've read lots of JohnLock fanfics and all of them were nothing short of perfect so I feel like I’m doing the fandom injustice. Compare to others fictions, mine is just a cockroach. *Sigh*


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